


How we met

by meet_the_rain



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: But only if you want to - Freeform, First Meetings, I was bored so here you go, Im supposed to be studying, One-Shot, Other, Slight Anderson and Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_the_rain/pseuds/meet_the_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a short little one-shot about how Anderson and Sherlock met. Could be read as Sherlock/ Anderson if you want. Have fun and enjoy ;3</p>
            </blockquote>





	How we met

Anderson (Sherlock)

The first time he met Sherlock Holmes was during his first “official job” as a forensic in New Scotland Yard. It was glorious and devastating to say the least. The first thing people “deduce” when spotting Phillip Anderson- because yes! His name is Phillip- is that he absolutely loads Sherlock. While that fact is most certainly true; it is also a great lie. Once again they both met in his first “official job” and Sherlock’s “high curiosity” leading him -well stumbling- down to the murder scene.

It sort of went something like this:

There was a cold body spread down on the floor, been there for approximately twelve hours. The woman was flat on her stomach; dress raised high and heels thrown off. The Yard suspected assault or robbery gone wrong maybe even attempted rape, due to the fact that the woman’s jewels were nowhere to be seen and the messy state of her dress. It was a reasonable conclusion; blood under her nails, face swollen, dress ripped, the smell of alcohol lingering by the street. Every single fact lead to that of attempted rape. Anderson was sure of this, for he spent years in school learning stuff similar to this; it was his job but despite all that, despite all clues leading their way. It was all wrong to “The oh so great Sherlock Holmes”.

For he came stumbling down, hands flapping in midair screaming “Wrong, wrong”

His eyes were blood shot, he remembered that. He remembered thinking “What does that junkie know” and clearly he was a drug addict for the way that he scratched the insides of his elbows when no one was looking. By the way he slurred with his words or grimaced when someone spoke to loud or if the sun shinned down on him. Still he swooped down rambling about jewels and incompetent morons; Lestrade had to take the man away himself for that fact.

“But, is in the jewels!” the man had yelled, hands desperately trying to bat the officer away. He remembered the way he yelled and rambled pointing to specs of dust as if they owned the answers to the universe. “Deductions” is what he later on learned they were called.

He turned back to look at the woman facing down, her jewels were stolen that much was true but it still didn’t solve the case. Is not as they could guess what jewels she was wearing that night and find her killer. He once again turned to see the officer trying to remove the man from the crime scene and it was that exact moment that Phillip Anderson changed as a man entirely.

For when he turned he was met with the bluest, gray, green eyes he has ever known. They held power despite the fact that they were coming down from a great high, they told stories, they swirled and swirled so much it made his head spin and then they blinked. It was then; that exact .003second blink that changed his life. Because right there and then without him realizing it until much later on in life when he was sitting down sipping tea. Sally yelling over dinner and John laughing about a recent case; that he discovered that for one whole second he was the only center of attention for one Sherlock Holmes.

It was glorious and devastating for what followed was a loud burst of deep vocal cords yelling

“You!...yes, you…you see it right…tell…tell these idiots you see it too” and then he committed the worst choice of his life.

He shook his head in a small no.

It wasn’t on purpose as he later on tried to tell. He was shocked, spooked right out of his mind. This was his first job; his first real job ever! What would The Yard think of him? Well they will think him mad of course, it simply wasn’t professional. Some part of him wanted to agree, wanted to say “yeah screw it, I believe you” but the more logical reasoning screamed ”no” over and over again. He couldn’t mess this up; his whole life depended on this job. Years later he discovered that that was the only huge difference between himself and John. John didn’t care what people thought of him, he gave up everything he owned just to follow the mad man. He laughed and joked but no matter how ridiculous the situation looked he still trusted every word that came out of the detective’s mouth. Never once questioning them only listening, silently whispering “not good, Sherlock”.

It was maddening and frustrating. So he slowly shock his head “no” but only to try and get rid of his thoughts never to say “are you serious?” but it was too late. For when he looked up again those same blue, gray, green eyes where colder than he ever know, even more so than that time Sarah slapped John and called him a freak. He later on learned that it was because he told Sherlock in not such a Sherlockian way that he was wrong, that his deductions and oh so superior intellect was wrong. Not only in front of a whole group of New Scotland yard officers but in front of his own persona. He told Sherlock Holmes that he was wrong, mad, a delusional junkie wasting space; and that was his worst mistake.

Of course he never “actually” said such things out loud, certainly not the first time they met. No sir, he said them much later on when he started sleeping with Sally, and when John started following Sherlock on cases, and when Greg just sighed in utter defeat. But till then he just watched as the madmen pulled his lips in a growl and spat out “Imbecile”

“Just like the rest of them”- he yelled his eyes never truly leaving his own.

“Come on mate, time to get you out of here” Greg intervened, harshly dragging the bystander away from the crime scene.

He watched as the man was pulled away, never once forgetting just how gray his eyes were or how the sound of his voice seemed to eco inside the alley. He remembered letting out a loud sigh, thinking that this was barely the start, that there was no way in hell he could do this regularly. He looked back to the woman laying on the floor, dress ripped and heels thrown off. With one last look he sighed and with a heavy heart he went to write his report. Attempted Rape he wrote, report written by Forensic Specialist Phillip Anderson from New Scotland Yard. Case Number #0001

**Author's Note:**

> So there ya have it. Comments, Kudos and everything alike are welcomed!!
> 
> Plzzzzzz, seriously it would make my day :D  
> Lot's of love meet_the_rain


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